Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A few years ago, Clintaur from Mokshya/gG and this cat, Nick from Synesthesia, sat down without any equipment, without anything to do, hanging in the desert of Phoenix Arizona; this was begot. It was in the Elvis of Egypt room. Clint lived in the Jungle room. The meth addict was in the Dungeon room jerking off to porn, women crawling through his windows. tribal beats, funked out and junked out bass guitars, and the end of the World.

Moloch was an Old Testament figure; he was the anti-God. The pagan god. Outcasts. He punished with fury. To Allan Ginsberg, he was the American 50's 60's civilization and persecution of minorities of different appearances and sexual orientations. He was the fury coming down on all. This of course was an actual movement or 3rd part of the epic poem Howl. One of the most perfect modern poems in our history, tested the limits of Free Speech.

We are Son of this Moloch. This facade. True Blood is a show on HBO and recently began to touch upon chaos and this fabrication called culture. We are man made. Not made of God but Moloch.

Clint was on Bass. Nick on drums and speaking Howl aloud incredible acumen for voice, and (g)alacticSON speaking and singing.

Screaming Moloch at the top of your lungs in the middle of night invariably increased the adrenaline pumping from our brain stems, bulging, large doses in rushes into a shocked and startled physiology.

The references in the following track feature readings from Ginsberg but also a great philosophical leader, Albert Camus, an existentialist, who wrote famously The Stranger. But one of his most controversial works was a condemnation of his time's existential philosophy, entitled, The Rebel. It was a break from his peers. And so he rebelled, and he was expunged from the inner circles of Sarte et al., yet still won the Nobel Prize having the courage to take on newer, more progressed ideas of Moloch.

And of course, this all sounds to us as a groan across the cosmos, a collective fog of thought reigning and raining above us.

The words and vocals came about months from the initial creation of these sounds building you into a trance, venom slithering into your neck, sinking in, the toxins exploiting the rigid nerves of mother culture pulsing through our bodies.

geppettoGESTAPO is presenting to you, Sons of Moloch and their epic song of philosophy and modern poetry, repetition experimenting in sound and spontaneity built by Clint of Mokshya/gG and his mastermind Nick H. Selsby (haha).

About Me

Two brothers born into the cosmos and left to make music conveying story and song from the creative depths of their minds.

(g)eppettoGESTAPO is a music project surviving amongst the sweltering ashes of the modern American dream, in a vast multiverse, in the prison of purgatory lost in the sixth dimension of Earth. Metaphors for our present and future.

gG's purpose is simple: to utilize the metaphor of classic story archetypes as to express their interpretation of our dimension and fuse it with electronics, the future, and the occasional, spoken word tomfoolery.

They are simply tales from beyond a galactic fog forged in the subconscious of a collective will and mind.